The Mercy Child
by Resfeber
Summary: Gaara stands alone in the remnants of a broken world, the sole survivor of the Fourth Great Shinobi War. (Not that she's especially pleased with that particular "honor.") What will happen when a randomly functioning interdimensional force, similar to the Anima, snatches a grieving Gaara from a mountain top and tosses her into the world of Fairy Tail?
1. Chapter 1

The Mercy Child

"If we are marked to die, we are enough to do our country loss; and if to live, the fewer men, the greater share of honor." –William Shakespeare

Chapter 1

Gaara stood motionless at the top of the Hokage Monument, her dark silhouette standing in sharp contrast to the vibrant sunset. Vermillion shades of red and liquid gold swirled together into a tapestry of shifting colors in the sky, balanced by delicate shades of pink and deep purples. The world was quiet, void of even the faintest whispers of life. Only the wind and the fire and Gaara made noise in the silent world. The wind whistled through the dead, withered trees of the once-proud forests of Konoha, which had been drained of life, along with the rest of the world, in the aftermath of the resealing of the Juubi within the Moon. She imagined that the sighing winds were not winds at all, but rather, the dying breaths of a tired world.

The Village Hidden in the Leaves was nothing more than a desolate wasteland, filled with the still-burning ruins of a bright future. The fires crackled and greedily devoured the homes and livelihoods of the Village that once held people, and hope, and the culture and dreams of an entire nation. Now it was home to only the wind and the fire and the dead trees reaching towards the faded sky. The charred remains were twisted caricatures of human hands, perpetually pleading with a silent god who would _never_ answer. There was no movement in the broken Village. No miraculous signs of life. Only the sharp cackling laughter of the hungry flames as they consumed the empty husks that used to be people. Gaara let them eat. There was no point in stopping them. After all, that's what fire did. It ate and ate and ate until there was nothing left, and then it died.

The taste and smell of bitter ash was inescapable, coating the insides of her nose and mouth with every breath, until she wondered if other sensations were nothing more than a fever dream, cobwebs of delusion coating her memories until she could no longer tell fact from fiction, dream from reality. Gaara wondered why she was still searching for survivors, though she knew, somewhere in the back of her mind where Shukaku used to whisper and rage, that she was the only one left.

Gazing in the general direction of the sunset, her flat jade eyes betraying not a flicker of emotion. Slowly, she brought her right hand up, and laid it across her chest. Gradually, it tightened, squeezing harder and harder, her fingers digging harshly into the dirty wine colored cloth as if to rip out her own heart, bruising her skin in the process. Her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the ground, crashing painfully onto the unforgiving stone. Her stomach shrieked in protest, the thick black lines of her Jinchuuriki seal having been branded into her skin while it shunted the power of the Juubi through itself, protecting her body from the effects of the poisonous chakra. Gaara could feel remnants of the foreign chakra clinging to her seal; her overstrained coils worked to replace her depleted energy. She knelt, the setting sun casting her face into shadow, her clothing torn and bloodied beyond repair. Her gourd was absent; she vaguely remembered it being pulverized in one of Madara's attacks. Her sand laid unmoving in a rough approximation of a circle around her crumpled form.

"It hurts." Her words broke the silence that covered the world like a thick, suffocating blanket. All was still, as if the world itself were listening. The tenuous control she had over her emotions shattered, as if her admission broke something vital inside her, crushed to powder like fragile glass. A single tear slipped down one dirty cheek. "It hurts." That broken, indefinable part of her shifted, stabbing lances of pain deep into the new hollow place within her chest. It burned with an old, familiar pain, growing brighter and burning hotter with every breath. It was unbearable. "It hurts." Tears began streaming down her face in earnest, her voice thick with emotion.

Her shoulders bent and her body shook, bearing the sorrow of an entire world. "I'm…" Gaara laid her grimy hands on the chilled stone, slowly lifting her head to gaze at the ruins of her world. Never ceasing, her tears fell, cutting clean tracks on her face, caked with dirt and blood. "…Alone." The sun sank behind the broken remains of Konoha, drowning in the shadows of the night.

She would never see Temari or Kankuro ever again. They would never smile at her, or hide her paperwork so she would spend time with them- to just be their little sister, not their Kazekage. Never again would they treat her to salted tongue whenever she did anything they deemed particularly impressive. (Which they somehow knew was her favorite dish, even though she never told them). They would no longer get into stupid arguments about things that didn't matter and nearly destroy her office, prompting her to throw them in separate holding cells for the night to cool off. She would never get to tell them that she loved them. And it was funny, because the first time in her life that she was ready to tell her siblings of her feelings, was after they died. Gaara distantly realized she was laughing through her choked sobs and- _dearKamiithurtandshewasgoing__**insaneshewasshewas**_-.

Never again would she walk through the streets of Sunagakure filled with her beloved people, caressed by the scorching desert wind. She would never be able to protect her people again because –_shefailedshefailedshe_- they were all –_deadstilldeadnotmoving_-. Her home was gone.

But it was just so _funny_, because everything she had ever desired in her childhood of insanity and murder and _**whispersinherhead**_ had been granted- just in time for her to decide that perhaps the world wasn't so bad after all. The world and the people who despised her, who reviled her because she was a Jinchuuriki were dead and gone, but her existence had not vanished.

There was no one left. A bitter smile clawed its way onto her face. _"So this is consequence of being the only Jinchuuriki to have cheated death." _Who would have thought, that the Jailor of the weakest of the Nine, (With her Bijuu removed, no less!), would be the only one to survive the Fourth Great Shinobi War? It was ludicrous. Ridiculous.

And she knew that Naruto would never again touch her shoulder and give her that smile as brilliant as the sun, and tell her that she **was not alone** because- "I'm alone."

In the remnants of the dying light, she cried.

/

Disclaimer:

I don't own Naruto or Fairy Tail. This story was made for fun, with no intent to sell. Please don't sue me.

Obligatory Author's Note:

So, this is my first story, and I don't have a Beta, so if you find any glaring plot holes or writing errors, please don't hesitate to inform me. Leave your advice, observations, constructive criticism, questions, or comments in a review, or just PM me. Either works. If you take issue with how I develop this story, please leave a coherent review, not a flame. Well-written complaints incline me to treat you more seriously.

Also, updates will be sporadic, because I will put schoolwork and real life first. I'm warning you now, so don't be surprised if there are weeks or months between updates. If people like this story enough, I'll put more effort into updating quickly, but this is honestly just a way to get this story out of my head. I have no intention of abandoning this fic, but if my plans change, I will inform you guys.

So yeah, please enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

The Mercy Child

"Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for." –Dag Hammarskjold

Chapter 2

It was midnight when the storm came. As the rain began to fall, mixing with the salty trails on her face, Gaara did not move. What did it matter, anyways? A little rain wouldn't kill her. (Not that it would matter if it did) In fact, it felt pleasantly cool against her heated skin; the repetitive drumming against the solid rock of the Monument was soothing to her frayed senses. An emotional numbness crept inside Gaara's mind, exacerbated by the monotony of the noise around her. Gaara wondered if she was selfish, for wanting to stop crying already.

–She didn't think Temari or Kankuro would mind.-

Her eyes slowly shuttered closed.She craved the unthinking embrace of sleep, if only to escape from the pain of reality for a while. But her moment of peace was not to be, shattered by a bolt of lightning tearing a jagged path across the dark heavens, searing its light into her closed eyes. Deafening thunder soon followed, stumbling behind lightning like an overeager puppy, only adding to the cacophony that surrounded Gaara. She cracked open a single eye before sighing, resigning herself to a sleepless night. Rapidly calculating various safety measures to enact due to the lightning, she finally decided to stay where she was. Her sand would provide an adequate defense against the unharnessed force of natural lightning.

When one took the time to observe nature in all of its untamed glory, Gaara mused, it could be found to be beautiful indeed. The wind lashed the rain every which way, buffeting the charred imitations of trees to no avail; lightning lit up the swirling forms of clouds for a split second before its brilliance fizzled away. The roar of the thunder drowned out any thoughts Gaara might've had, providing its own form of relief. The rain pounded Gaara's prone form as she observed the raging sky. She gave a tired smile. "How fitting." Her horse voice was snatched from her lips by the winds and drowned by the thunder, before it even had the chance to reach her ears.

With a detached sort of worry, Gaara noted that the storm was rapidly gaining momentum. Multiple bolts, tinged with lavender, struck the earth near her position, sending stone shrapnel hurdling towards her body. Her sodden sand sluggishly blocked the rapidly moving stone shards, the automatic defenses kicking in just in time.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled uncomfortably, standing at attention. Gaara frowned, a hint of concern flashing across her features. Lightning did not behave like this. It was almost as if- _oh, shit._ Light flashed. Thunder screamed. Her sand rushed from the ground to protect her, disregarding the apathy of its wielder. The lightning bolt –_no, not lightning notlightning__**unnatural**_- tore through her Sand Shield like it was wet paper (for the millisecond she could still think, she felt insulted. The lightning didn't even have the good manners to _slow down_), striking her directly on her Seal. Her world _**lurched **_as the Not-Lightning stole her away.

And her blood turned to fire.

/

Burning light scorched every inch of her skin; pain rippled up and down her nervous system, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. An Unstoppable Force wretched an invisible chain originating from her Seal, screaming agony enfolding her as she was crushed against an Impenetrable Wall.

And she –_couldn'tthink_-

And she –_couldn'tbreathe_-

And she –_couldn'tsee_-

And she -_couldn'tscream_-

And –_Kamijustletmedieithurtsit__**hurtsmakeitstop**_-.

Energy flexed in and around her, both cradling and crushing her as it unintentionally imparted the barest of inklings as to _what the hell was going on_. The Force existed only to **take**, then **move**, and ignored anything that told it to **stop**. Gaara just wanted it to be over, for the Force to let her wallow in despair on her mountain top, but the Force wanted her to go There**,** through the Wall, and there was no way back.

-But she could feel, deep in her bones, through the haze of agony that enshrouded her mind that she _did not belong_ _There_. -

She was of death and loss and blood and murder and darkness.

But There was a place full of light and hope and _onemoreshot_.

And so, mustering up the last of her strength, she roared in protest, her throat rippling and tearing from the strain, because to go There would be _so very wrong_- she was _not meant _to exist There. The Force seemed to ignore her screams. It was simple energy, incapable of compassion or thought. Its purpose was to **move** her through the Wall, but Gaara could not pass because she was _wrong_. The energy swaddling her in power within the space-between-worlds _solidified_ with purpose. A solution had been reached. Gaara allowed herself a moment of irrational hope that the Force would simply drop her off back at the Hokage Monument- but that was not to be.

Her screams were stifled in the waves of pure energy that assailed her, crushing her, pushing and prodding and reaching into her innermost being and _twisting_, changing her according to some predetermined template. And the Force yanked her straight through the Wall. And with an almighty –_crack_-, she could breathe.

/

By some divine will, Gaara did not immediately lose consciousness the second she was released from that Force's painful, indifferent grip. (Though a part of her wished she had, before being squashed ruthlessly by her pragmatic side- Kage were not weak.) It was bright, that much she could tell through her closed eyes. ("Never give any indication of wakefulness- a shinobi's greatest weapon is deception. Remember this, Gaara.")

The sound of waves crashing on rock filled her ears (the ocean?), but there were no birdcalls. Gaara's body trembled, wracked in shivers as her body entered into shock. The unrelenting pain had halted after the –_crack_-, and she was grateful for that small mercy. Panting, she attempted to recover some small amount of strength, while also silencing the screaming rebellion her lungs had incited.

(something was wrong)

Her body lay still upon the hard rock; she could taste salt on her lips and smell it in the soft breeze. Her Seal was tingling, as if it were a limb with its circulation cut off. Her chakra reserves felt dangerously close to empty, and her chakra coils seemed to have joined the glorious Revolution her lungs and nervous system had incited. She heard voices, freezing in shock at the unmistakably human noise. They were garbled, as if she were listening from underneath water.

(that's impossible they're alldeaddeaddead)

Gaara tried to lift her head; desperate to glimpse that impossible, wonderful being that was alive_alive__**alive**_- but immediately thought better of it.

Where was she? Were those people hostile, ambivalent, or allies? Would she be better off running away and searching for some other sign of civilization? Her best course of action for now would be to play unconscious whilst gathering information.

Her eyes prickled beneath her eyelids, and she told herself that she wasn't crying. She was the Godaime Kazekage, and Kage do not cry. (But Kage lie.) Her body felt strange, stretched out and pushed together all at once. With a jolt of alarm, Gaara realized that her pretend-sleep was rapidly becoming reality. Desperately clinging to consciousness, she barely registered the feeling of someone picking her up. Before she even had a chance to panic-

(soverytired)

Darkness claimed her in the space between her thoughts.


End file.
